


The nursery rhymes

by Lindanais



Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Brothers, Family Drama, Family Feels, Gen, Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 20:04:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10998021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindanais/pseuds/Lindanais
Summary: I have three beautiful children.A child born from the forest, dark and deep, with the unshakeable calm and the strength of the time, with its roots and many hiding places.A child born from the sea, the sandy hair and alive eye, impetuous and mobile, elusive and unpredictable.A child born from the mountains, clear skin and dark eyes, hidden and desired, brittle ravines and unimaginable strength.When Axl was born, songs and nurseries had long disappeared. And everything had gone to shit.





	The nursery rhymes

The nursery rhymes

Their mother liked to sing. She wasn’t very good but she had a real talent to invent rhymes and songs. She hummed while cooking, bathing them or going grocery. And always before put them in bed.

She had a favorite one.

I have two beautiful children.  
A child born from the forest, dark and deep, with the unshakeable calm and the strength of the time, with its roots and many hiding places.  
A child born from the sea, the sandy hair and alive eye, impetuous and mobile, elusive and unpredictable.

When Ty was born, the mother added a piece.

I have three beautiful children.  
A child born from the forest, dark and deep, with the unshakeable calm and the strength of the time, with its roots and many hiding places.  
A child born from the sea, the sandy hair and alive eye, impetuous and mobile, elusive and unpredictable.  
A child born from the mountains, clear skin and dark eyes, hidden and desired, brittle ravines and unimaginable strength.

When Axl was born, songs and nurseries had long disappeared. And everything had gone to shit.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anders loved few things, good wine, easy women and fish.  
He had good taste, especially for the clothes, and an apartment that mirrored him.  
He could be very good at his job. He knew how to draw very well but nobody knew it.  
He loved television, he liked to watch it, half asleep on the couch.  
He had learned to love his freedom and independence that he had lost much to get it.  
He loved his brother Ty. Or at least he was the only one he could show to love deeply.

He hated even less things. Tomato soup, boredom and anger. He hated anger.

The rest of things made him neither hot nor cold.

He knew what he wanted and knew how to take it. He was ambitious, hedonistic, self-centered but not malevolent. He wasn’t vindictive.

At 21, Bragi started to whispered in his head. At 21 years and few months he had made sure to crack the relationship with his older brother.

At age 25, he had opened his company. He built everything by himself.

In the evening he loved drinking wine in beautiful glasses while watching his aquarium. He didn’t like sleeping alone.

That spring he turned 34 years old.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The good thing about having a brother who owns a bar, obviously not feeling the need to pay for the drinks, was that there were no closing days.  
Axl was already at his third beer when someone knocked on the door.  
"We're closed," said Mike, from behind the counter. A female voice answered.  
"Ty?" She called. The man jumped instantly, turning the key to open the door.  
"Dawn." He smiled at her. The girl looked briefly at the two brothers farther before pointing to Ty, standing in front of her. She looked nervous and worried.  
"Excuse me if I disturb you ..." she began, biting her lower lip "Ty, when was the last time you heard from Anders?" The man looked surprise.  
"I heard him on the phone a couple of days ago," he replied after thinking for a moment, "why?"  
"He didn’t come to work today" she nervously pulled a blond lock between his fingers.  
"It will not be a novelty," Axl said giggling, the beer bottle between his lips.  
Dawn looked seriously embarrassed.  
"Not when we have appointments with important customers," she said, "or anyway not without warning. He didn’t answer the phone and I knocked for hours at his home without any answer. Lately he seemed stranger than usual"  
Ty turned to his brothers. Mike listened seriously but he didn’t seem particularly troubled.  
"Ty, please. Can you check it out? I know it's stupid, but I'm worried. Please?"  
Ty smiled at her with warmth "of course, don’t worry. We take care of it. I’m sure he’s fine"  
When Dawn left Ty turned to look at Mike. He just closed his eyes and opened them again afterwards.  
"He's at his house," he said. All three of them went.

"Anders?" He repeated strong once again. "Anders we know that you're in there. If you don’t open right now I’ll do it with my key, no matter what you're doing "  
Axl had chatted all the time in the car imagining scenarios that were all the more impossible and they all had as subject the brother's bedroom. Mike was immediatly tired of listening him. They stood like idiots out of Anders' apartment and he had enough of all that story.  
"Ty, just open it," he said.  
They were invested with an acrid smell of vomit. Anders was lying on one side, on the floor in front of the kitchen' counter. The cell phone abandoned a few feet from him.  
Mike and Ty were at his side in a moment. Axl remained motionless on the threshold, his eyes wide open.  
"Call an ambulance!" Mike cried out over the voice of Ty, who kept calling his brother by name. Anders was still wearing his shirt, encrusted with dry vomit, his lips dangerously white and tiring breath.  
"What?"  
"Axl, call an ambulance!!!"  
Axl took the phone out his pants pocket, the eyes fixed on his brothers, one Mike who was trying to shake his brother while Ty tried to wake him with his cold hands all over his body. Axl couldn’t remember the right address, his hands and ears were sweaty, and the woman on the phone kept asking questions, and he didn’t know what to answer. Mike ripped his phone out of his hands. Axl only grasped a few words in the stern and tough voice of his older brother.  
"My brother ... yes, 34 years old ... no, I don’t know ... it may be overdose ... yes, I'm sending you someone waiting in the street. Quick please"  
Mike looked him straight in the eye. "Axl, go out and wait for the ambulance," he ordered. Ty didn’t stop to call Anders.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mike was driving without taking his eyes off the road, in a frozen silence. He couldn’t stop feeling angry with that girl in his bar, with the ambulance he was following, with that fucking situation and that fucking whip of his idiot brother.  
Ty looked out the window. The only one to speak was Axl, but he had stopped immediately without receiving any response.  
"Could it be overdose?" Mike asked the nearest paramedic while Anders was lifted to the stretcher. He shooked his head.  
"If it had been, he would be dead," he replied.  
The hospital was cold and populated by the strange humanity, even the doctors and nurses at night seemed more weird.  
Mike compiled a set of papers at the reception. Ty and Axl looked at him from the waiting room's chairs.  
Ty asked if they wanted a coffee. He asked that question trying to not ask what could have happened if they hadn’t gone to check that apartment. No one wanted coffee.

A doctor called them quietly and deeply. She shook the hand at all three with a short smile.  
"I'm Dr. Grant, the attending doctor of your brother," she said.  
Mike just pressed his eyes.  
"Attending doctor?" He asked.  
"How's Anders?" Axl asked urgently at the same moment.  
The woman nodded, gesturing to sit down. She only spoke when she was arranged, the dark hair tightly knotted on the back of the neck.  
"Your brother is fine now, he was already beginning to wake up when I left," she said. Ty let a sigh so relieved to resemble a strange squeak. "He fainted because of a severe imbalance caused by the medications he is taking and deep dehydration. After finishing the drip he will feel much better."  
Mike and Ty looked at each other.  
"What kind of medicine is taking?" asked the youngest. The woman looked at him seriously, not particularly surprised. She crossed his fingers on his lap.  
"You can see him, if you want," she only said.

Anders was sitting on the bed, the sleeves of the shirt rolled up on his elbows and large patches to witness the operation of the drip.  
When he saw them come in he couldn’t suppress a sigh, lifting his eyes to heaven.  
"Save me," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. Mike will not save him.  
"Explained," he said frosty. Anders snorted, beginning to unroll the right sleeve.  
"Anders," he warned, with that peremptory tone that he couldn’t accept replies.  
"Anders," Ty intervened with more sweetness "please, we found you faint at home. The doctor mentioned treatment and medicines ... please. "Anders didn’t look at them, he started to settle on the other sleeve.  
"Stomach cancer" he said quickly, trying to look unconcerned.  
"Are you kidding right?!" Axl exploded, looking through the three brothers looking for the same disbelief in their faces. Anders gave him a somewhat amused look. Ty seemed so sorrowful to be about to faint. Mike was simply motionless.  
"How long have you known," he said. Anders shrugged, bending slowly in search of the shoes.  
Ty took a few steps forward.  
"Why the hell didn’t you tell me?" He had a wounded tone "Anders! Where the hell are you going?" He added. Anders looked at him briefly, clutching his last shoe.  
"At home," he replied, "I signed the discharge sheets, no way I spend the night in the hospital"  
Mike stared at him incredulously.  
"You know it for a long time, and you didn’t tell us." Ty said again. Anders couldn’t ignore his resentful voice, looking at Ty in his eyes.  
"What would it have served?" Ty remained motionless with wide open eyes. The only one who had the strength to protest was Axl, but Anders blocked him with a gesture of the arm.  
"Listen," he said, "I appreciate the heroic rescue and everything else, I'm fine now. I'm taking care of myself and it's all under control. What I really need is to go home and put me in my bed."  
Anders was done that way, he could erase all sentiments in the others leaving intact only anger.  
Mike and Axl were purple. Ty made another step.  
"Allow us to accompany you with the car at least," he said softly.  
"Thank you but I take a taxi," he replaid slowly.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mike had a lot of memories of Ty and Axl kids.  
He remembered the anxious look of Ty and his passion for fairy tales about animals. Maniac care for objects and red nose when it was cooled.  
He had millions of memories about Axl, the first word, the first day of school. The toothless smile and the scrape knees. The easy laugh.

He had very little memories of Anders. Almost flash, not easy to grasp. Blond hair and elusive gaze. A hamster cage. A drawing album.

He didn’t have the slightest memory of himself.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a long day in the office and he just wanted to get a shower and get to bed.  
He wasn’t really surprised when he heard the bell. There could only be one of his brothers at the door.  
"Mike," he said, approaching the jamb. His brother looked at him briefly before passing him.  
"Can I come in?" He asked already in the middle of the living room.  
"Mike isn’t really the right moment," he said, closing the door and reaching the back of the couch, he was barefoot but still wearing his shirt. Mike didn’t listen him.  
"We have to talk," he said.  
Anders had a gray patina on the skin. He had trembling twists and cold and wet fingers.  
"This isn’t really the right time," he repeated dryly. "Mike, please, go away," he said, feeling really tired. His brother looked at him surprised. Anders tried to look at him, but he looked blurry, he was looking over him, at his aquarium, and thought of the bad brandy cereals he was forced to eat as a kid. A cruel and frozen vise clenched grimly around his guts.  
"Anders?" Mike's voice was lost in the empty room, where a moment before stared at his tired, sick brother. He heard him vomit from the bathroom.  
Mike took a long, deep breath, took off his jacket putting it on the back of a transparent plastic chair and followed those guttural and desperate sounds in that apartment where he had only been a couple of times.  
Anders vomited abandoned on the toilet bowl, the white knuckles in contrast with the face purple for the effort. His face was wet, some were drops of sweat, other tears.  
Mike took one of the smaller towels under the sink and knelt beside his brother. He held his forehead, frozen and boiling together. A hand on his back, the cotton shirt stitched like a second skin.  
The retchings were violent and sudden, prevented him from breathing and then abandoned him without force.  
It passed more than an hour. Mike no longer felt his knees.  
When Anders managed to open his eyes, he looked at him cross his arms. Mike saw it, the accusation, in those red-eyed blue eyes.  
Anders moved very slowly, with an effort almost agonizing. He threw out his brother's arm in a gesture that had to be angry and climbed on the sink looking for a cold water. His legs didn’t hold him, Mike could see his shoulder tremble through his shirt.  
Anders took his toothbrush and washed his teeth meticulously, trying to fix his face and hair. The effort forced him to rest the forehead against the mirror for a long time.  
"Are you happy now?" he whispered, slowly opening his eyes, "Are you happy now. You did what was your duty. You can go now." He seemed to have exhausted his last breath.  
Mike looked at him. That sense of helplessness, frustration and anger that always accompanying his relationship with his brother was stronger than ever. Along with a strong and ancient pain.  
"You don’t really believe me to leave," he said seriously. They looked for a moment, then Anders closed his eyes, defeated by fatigue, not by his brother.  
Mike drove him slowly toward his bedroom, holding his arms with a strange sense of shame. It had been a lifetime since the last time they had been so close.  
"I have to take some medicine before," he murmured in protest when he saw his bed.  
"I'll bring them to you." He cut short his brother.  
"On the kitchen counter. There are instructions "  
Mike found several bottles placed in the kitchen cabinet corner, modern and immaculate. He watched those white containers and their labels and the elegant calligraphy of the instructions hanging beside them. Three pills every 12 hours, two every four hours. Drink plenty of water and sugary liquids.  
Mike looked around. He couldn’t restrain the impulse and opened the pantry doors. It was almost empty, except for a pack of biscuits, a pack of coffee and what looked like bread packed in a cassette.  
The fridge contained only alcohol. A lemon envelope, a carton of milk and fish feed. His brother's unknown habits.  
He returned to the bedroom with a glass full of water and three pills. Anders slammed to one side on the mattress without moving from where his brother had sat him. He was covered with a sweat film and he was shivering. Mike shook him slowly, feeling him frosty. The sweat on the clothes and back had become frozen.  
Anders opened his eyes with obvious difficulty in focusing. His brother had to hold him completely to make him swallow the medicine and drink a little water.  
Mike searched through the dresser's drawers for the most suitable clothes while Anders let himself fall semiconscious on the mattress. Mike began to undress him. They were gestures he had done hundreds of times with the two younger brothers. Undressed and dressed with the utmost care. He began to unbuttoned his shirt, discovering the blond and curly hair of his chest. He untied his pants, revealing light thighs and a pair of black boxers. Mike observed that unknown and familiar body. The body of an adult man. Of his brother.  
He removed the blankets and pushed him underneath, sheltering. Anders let out a few laments but in a few moments he seemed to sleep.  
In the kitchen, Mike read the instructions for medicines once again. He found on another sheet the appointments for hospital care.  
He sat heavily on the black leather couch and stood silent for a few moments before pulling out the cellphone.  
"Ty." He said, when the other responded to the first ring, "the situation is serious, he can’t stay alone. We have to arrange shifts. "

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their life had always been arranged by shifts. Even going to school became "a shift".  
There were Mike's shift work. Shifts to get out with friends. Shifts to go to grocery. To clean the house. To cook. Everything was rigidly arranged in shifts to never leave the children alone or worse, alone with their father.  
The kids were Ty and Axl.

Once Anders took a punishment at school for answering back to a professor. They forced him to stay in the classroom for three and a half hours in the afternoon. It was his turn to stay with Ty.  
Anders sweat cold all the hours of his punishment, his heart in his throat, learning the first of many lessons about his big mouth.

The shifts made everything works.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Mike opened his eyes, he needed few moments to realize that he was on the couch of Anders' apartment. From the bathroom was coming the muffle sound of the open shower. Anders appeared in the kitchen shortly afterwards, dressed in a full khaki color, pale but with a healthier air than the evening before.  
" 'morning," he said almost without looking at him. In the kitchen he swallowed a few pills and put on the coffee.  
He moved quickly with efficient gestures. The last image Mike had of his brother in a kitchen dates back to a lifetime ago.  
"You should eat something," he said, unable to hold it back, approaching the kitchen counter. Anders raised his eyes briefly, placing a second cup of coffee on the counter. Mike took it.  
"You should really eat something," he insisted. The special petulant tone he reserved only to him.  
Anders was busy treating around his aquarium, holding fish feed.  
"Give me space, Mikkel. I'll eat something going to work "granted shortly. He turned around blocking the brother's protest. "I'll eat something going to work," he repeated, articulating each word to close the conversation. He closed the fridge noisely.  
"Can we talk now?" Mike was a guy who didn't give up, that he had to admit it.  
"We've never been very good at it," the other smiled, a grin between tired and bitter.  
"Make an effort," he said hard, sipping his coffee.  
"I'm late at work," Anders tried with cold, cold eyes.  
"Since when do you care? I don't even think you should go there, I think you should seriously start to take care of you and deal with... "  
"Fuck you, Mike. Fuck you. Just one night that you spent here and .. "  
"One night I was here and I saved your ungrateful ass from another hospital trip ..."  
"One night you've been here and you have already taken all the right to understand everything, to judge and play a despot"  
They continued to interrupt each other, with each sentence increasing the volume, each sentence increased the anger. The words came out as spit, filled with resentment and shame, in order not to be able to avoid any fucking time to finish that way. There was only one word between them and the Pandora's vase opened wide. They seemed to want to eat each other.  
Anders chuckled, without glee.  
"I told you we weren't good at talking," he said. Mike took a deep breath, passing his hand in his long hair, trying to handle anger and frustration.  
"You should have told us about your illness," he said hard, looking at him. Anders looked back, those blue eyes that Mike had never, never grabbed.  
"Why," he only asked  
"Because we are your family," he replied immediately. Only for a moment Anders's face softened. An instant of which only the dimples remained on his cheeks.  
"Oh, Mike. This answer sounds so like you".

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anders had inherited the dimples from his grandmother.  
They always appeared to his face when he was sad and when he was cheerful. When he was cheerful they were deeper. Ty loved them, for him the brother's image was inextricably linked to them.  
Anders reading a book. Anders who accompanied him to school. Anders mocking him but letting him sleep with him all the nights. That hid him. That carried him around, sometimes with friends, more often alone. The dimples are always there.  
When he went to college, Ty missed him so much.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he left the hospital, Anders saw Ty, leaning against the side of his van. He took a few steps before sighing theatrically.  
"It's a persecution," he exclaimed. Ty smiled, amused. Between his three brothers he was the most yielding, the only one who allowed him to play his game.  
"I live to persecute you," he said, opening the passenger side door and moving toward the driver's door. He knew he didn't have much choice.  
Anders sat down looking for his sunglasses to protect himself from sunset light. Ty had made time to notice the tired eyes.  
"My house or your house?" He asked. His brother was shocked.  
"Are you joking, right?" He exclaimed. Ty shook his head. Anders smiled at him, showing the dimples.

Anders sank into the black leather couch. Ty was in the kitchen armed with a purse that he had brought and reached him with two glasses full of what certainly did not look like a Daiquiri.  
"Orange juice" proclaimed cheerful, sitting close to him. Anders stared at him incredulously.  
"It's fresh, good and full of vitamin C," Ty continued, sipping from the glass as it was the best thing ever drunk. Anders stared at him briefly, in his blue sports suit, already feeling himself surrendering. He reached for an arm and grabbed his glass. Ty stared at him silently. He had called Dawn the night before, telling her there wasn't anything to worry about. She had thanked him seeming relieved. He wondered what Anders had told her that morning in the office.  
"Do you need anything?" He asked, "Are you hungry? Would you like to take a shower? If I open the window a bit we can change air "  
"Ty." He blocked him. "Stop it. I let you stay only if you stop it, "he said seriously.  
They watched on television a ridiculous action movie, all blatant and firing. They laughed so much that they almost overturned the bowl of popcorn. Anders had taken a little of the instant purée that Ty had prepared and just some bite of his roast. And he threw most of the pop corn into his brother's hair. When the TV was out, it was late.  
Anders rose slowly from the couch, betraying some difficulty. Ty saw him disappear to the other wing of the apartment and heard unmistakable sounds coming from the bathroom. Mike had dryly warned him and he had spent the whole morning reading everything he had been able to find on internet, neglecting much of his work. When he reached the bathroom however, Anders was already pulling the flush. He saw him wash his face several times and try to brush his tooth. He made it nearer but Anders stopped him.  
"I'm fine," he said firmly. Ty followed him. He followed him into the kitchen, a few feet away, he saw him take pills with a glass of water. And he followed him into the bedroom, watching him take off his pants and slowly slip the shirt he used to sleep.  
"Ty, stop it, Christ," he snorted, shaking his blankets.  
"Do you really need anything?" He asked softly, his knees on the mattress.  
"Yeah, really," he answered with an exhausted sighing. Very, very slowly Ty got close to his brother, lying on his side. He put his forehead against Anders's chest, remaining so, stopped. Anders stood rigid for a few moments before laying down his hand in the black hair of his younger brother.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ty," said Mike, when the other responded to the first ring, "the situation is serious, He can't stay alone. We have to arrange shifts. "  
Ty was sitting on his couch with his hands on his knees, waiting for some news. He breathed deeply.  
"Okay, tomorrow it's up to me," he heard Mike's worried breath on the other end of the phone. He seemed to want to add something but he only said "Let's leave out Axl for the moment"  
Ty nodded, then remembered that the other couldn't see him.  
"All right," he repeated.  
It was the first time he was included in the shift's system.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anders remembered a pale little boy with dark hair, watery blue eyes and anxious smile. Next to him in the bed that child had left the place to a huge and muscular body. The expression, however, remained the same as when he wore old t-shirts belonged to Anders and Mike.  
He had been a child with easy but silent tears, obedient, sweet and patsy.  
Anders felt a dull pain that started from the bones, irradiating from the throat, and a strong nausea at the mouth of the stomach. He didn't want to move. He had to get up, take the medicines, take a shower and go to the appointment by the doctor.  
Ty snored softly, Anders allowed himself to lie down few more minutes.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Don't even think about it!" Anders shouted red in his face. Mike stared at him quietly, his checkered shirt in his trousers held by the usual dubious Texan belt.  
"I've already talked to your doctor, agreeing that I must be present to be informed about the therapy," he said dryly.  
"I'm not a fucking little boy," he snarled. Mike just smiled.  
"It doen't look like it," he said.  
"Mike," he said, trying to calm down, "you don't have the slightest right to do it. And surely I will not let you in there with me in that room "Mike clasped his eyes.  
"This is really adult, Anders, my compliments" he snered.  
"How do you like to do this part, the part of the saint who has to deal with everything and everyone. You were excited at the only thought of being able to take care of your poor degenarate brother with cancer"  
Mike looked at him, tried to look at him closely. His suit elegant but not excessive, , his light reddish beard, his clear eyes. His gaunt, sweaty and pale face. Aggressiveness and irony as a weapon of attack and the formidable ability to always say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Or the right thing to make him piss or make him feel like a shit.  
And yet, Mike remembered a time when it was easier to love him.  
"If you don't let me in with you, I'll ask another appointment to talk to the doctor because your behavior is unacceptable and irresponsible. We need to know what kind of illness we have to deal with, the therapies to follow, the side effects and the prob ... " he was about to say probability of success but stopped in time. Anders seemed very tired, it was because of the tiredness that he gave up so easily. He chose a smile to challenge him because it needed less energy.  
"I need to know what illness I have to deal with. I need to know the therapies and the side effects. Because I'm undergoing them. And it's always me that need to know my chances of healing because Mikkel, I have cancer, and that's exactly the fucking reason why I didn't say anything to you, " he took breath" I don't want you around. I don't want any of you around. I want to be left in peace, " he concluded.  
"I'll take an appointment with the doctor," Mike spit out in reply.  
"Fuck you Mike," he said, crossing him without even looking at him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anders had been diagnosed with a second-stage type of stomach cancer. Too large to be surgically removed immediately.  
He had thought of a gastritis or something like that, because of the nausea and the burns. And he obtained a cancer.  
He had just started the first chemotherapy cycle. To prevent the tumor from extending to the lymph nodes, they told him. And to reduce its size in view of a resolution operation.  
Three cycles of therapy meanwhile. Then we see, they told him. But he is young, he is strong.  
Anders was also a smoker, exposed to various levels of risky sexual situations, an enthusiastic but occasional consumer of drugs and a deep alcohol lover. Yet he had a stomach tumor. He laughed.  
Even Bragi's whispers had become more mild and discreet.  
And at first it was pretty much okay.  
It was with the second cycle that came the deep exhaustion that made him feel his bones empty and the blood slow as if the world were in stop motion.  
Sometimes he felt as usual and the minute after he couldn't focus or move. Bragi cradled him in sleep, reminded him to drink, to feed the fish.  
He hadn't calculated such a sudden betrayal by his body. He didn't expect to hear his knees surrender in that way and his breathing mixed with the bile stopped in his throat. To faint in his kitchen that day and to be pitiably found by his brothers.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Axl was a giant kid.  
He had giant hands, giant shoulders, giant mouth, giant feet.  
When he was a child he was awkward and cumbersome, as if he had already guessed what his future size might be.  
He was spoiled, without knowing that he was. He had also an incredible generosity and good heart.  
Axl was born in the ruins of a family. It was born when the survivors were trying to collect the shards but at his first wail they had thrown everything away to build something new, only for Axl, because he didn't have the chance to see those shameful rubble.  
That mechanism had made them all accomplices and it continued to exist, unsaid.  
So Axl, Father of Gods, was a giant kid who was walking heavily on ruins that he was not even able to see.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn worked on her computer, organizing the calendar, and kepting in touch with clients. Anders hadn't moved all over the morning from the sofa in his office, an arm on his eyes. It wasn't an unusual pose for her boss, but the girl saw him sweat and had received only a few monosyllables in response to his questions. He hadn't touch his coffee.  
Axl went into the office with circumspect, two paper cups in his hands. Dawn pointed the dark sofa with his chin. The boy saw his brother.  
"I brought you, um, a smoothie," he said as greeting. Anders sighed. He held his arms up and sat down. Axl swung on his feet, waving his long arms, looking at him embarrassed.  
"Who sends you?" Anders asked with a hoarse voice.  
"No one," he said hastily, "I wanted to know how you were. You never answer my messages "he added.  
"I'm fine," Anders said. Axl gave him the glass. The content was a doubtful heavenly cream. The boy guzzled it in big sugary sips. Anders did not even lean his lips on it. Axl looked at him anxious.  
"Why don't you let us help you? Mike is getting crazy."  
"Mike is getting crazy because someone doesn't do what he order," he replied unconcerned, stretching to put the smoothie on his desk. Axl couldn't suppress a smile.  
"How does your research is going?" Anders asked, trying to distract him. He worked great, Axl rolled on the armchair, letting his leg dangle.  
"Stationary. I'm not making much progress, "he admitted.  
"Little brother, you need a new plan." Axl sipped thoughfull the blue concoction.  
"Yes ... I suppose so"  
Anders smiled at the irresistible lightness of his brother. And at his giant hands.  
Axl looked at him with the straw still in his lips.  
"But are you sure you're okay?" He asked, almost timidly.  
"Nothing that a good fuck can not solve," he replied with a wink. Axl giggled, comforted, jumped up, reached the exit and greeted both.  
"But call if you need," he added on the door.  
Anders waited for him to come out. He needed a couple of deep breaths before going back to lying on the couch.  
Dawn appeared an hour later, finding him still in the same position.  
"Anders, go home," she said quietly.  
Anders closed his eyes, he wanted to be in his bed.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The college had been fun. Wellington had welcomed him.  
Girls and boys fell into his arms with alcohol and no shamelessness. The environment was varied, active. You could be every day different. Sometimes he also studied.  
He had a routine and for the first time in his life he could only take care of himself. And he decided he liked that freedom.  
He knew he was moving well among the people. This before Bragi began to whisper in his ears.  
Ty called him once a week, punctuated as an anxious mother. Wednesday night. Anders listened to him, let him tell him about life at home and how Axl grew up. He teased him a bit and then greeted him until Wednesday afterwards.  
He came home for the holidays and was always harder. Extremely hard.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a few days it all went well.  
He couldn't take part in a marathon, of course, but he had never felt the necessity of doing so throughout his life anyway. The nausea had calmed down and he felt less weak.  
Until that morning.  
Anders had awakened with the horrible sensation that his skin had fused to the mattress. He couldn't perceive the boundaries of his body. Arms and legs were lead. He was sweaty and cold.  
He took more than half an hour to take a shower. Once dressed, he sat for a long time on the edge of the bed. He didn't trust driving the car to go to work, walking was out of the question. He could have asked for a ride to Ty or Axl, but he just managed to get rid of their constant appearances by convincing them to have everything under control.  
He called Dawn, told her to have an unexpected and that he would try to arrive after lunch.  
He lay down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Bragi gently murmured in his mind. Anders rarely understood what he was saying but that sound cradled him like a familiar litany, accompanying him in sleep.  
He woke up almost screaming. His hands pressed on his stomach in the desperate attempt to appease the cramps inhaling his body. He screamed, no, he didn't scream, his breath was stuck in his throat and he simply opened his mouth like the fish in his aquarium.  
He remembered having medicines for cases like that. The distance between the couch and the kitchen counter seemed infinite. Anders dropped down from the couch, letting himself fall on his knees. He crawled slowly, bent over himself, slithering his knees on the floor using the shivering arm as lever, the other tight around his stomach in search of relief. The open mouth mutes.  
When he reached the counter of the kitchen he was so sweaty to be soaked. The sweat poured over the eyes and burned. He found the bottle with a cruel effort and swallowed two pills without water, dropping heavily on the floor, his back against the kitchen cabinet.  
He could only wait. And he waited. He waited until it became clear that if he had tried to move his legs wouldn't hold up. The cramps had attenuated but the tremor didn't. He was thirsty but the fridge in front of him was unattainable. He wanted to cry but he would never do it.  
Slowly he pulled the cell phone out of his trouser pocket. Press the call, before to change his mind. He took a deep breath and struggled hard.  
"Ty?" He said when he heard his voice, "Ty, could you come?"

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they were child when they got sick their mother prepared for them chicken soup.  
The illness made it bland in his mouth but Anders had the clear memories of how warm it was when it came down in his throat.  
Ty had drunk more broth than milk. Ironically, growing up, it became the God of the cold things, unable to perceive the heat.  
Axl had always been a child more with scraped knees than cold.  
Mike had continued that custom, whenever one of them became sick, a pot had its appearance on the stove.  
Anders had left the house after high school. Once he had the bad idea of taking an istant broth from a 24h market. It was absolutely tasteless and it hadn't warmed him up at all.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ty entered with his copy of the keys. He saw the brother sitting on the floor in the kitchen, his head thrown back and his eyes closed.  
"Anders?" He called softly. Anders slowly opened his eyes and smiled at him. He was pale and sweaty.  
"I'll take you to the hospital," Ty said, seriously. He spoke as if he feared to raise his voice too much. Anders tried to shake his head, but it wasn't a good idea.  
"No ..." he said instead. Ty looked uncertainly, clearly undecided about what to do.  
"Can I call Mike?" He hesitated. Anders took a breath.  
"No. No need for the hospital. I just, I just need to get up. And take off these fucking clothes. And I would have a desperate need for vodka” Something in his voice calmed Ty, or maybe it was just the relief of having something to do.  
Ty grabbed him gently on his shoulders, letting him stand easily. He took an arm and slipped it behind his neck, holding his left hand to his side. His hands were cold.  
They made some uncertain steps and seemed to work. Ty could have easier lift him in his arms but he didn't do it.  
Anders turned to the bathroom. Hugging on the sink washed his face and neck, cold water flowed, saving his skin from the burning of stagnant sweat. He felt a little better now.  
Ty went to get some comfortable clothes, Anders took advantage of it to pee.  
His brother found him seated on the toilet while his shacking fingers tried to unbutton his shirt, his hands sliding all the way down his side. Ty approached him slowly, without saying anything and helped him change, trying to limit the intrusion as much as possible.  
"Do you remember that fairy tale you always racounted to me?" He asked as he helped him to put on the lightweight cotton vest "that of that child with his tufted hair"  
"Ricky of the Tuft ," Anders said wearily, but with a hint of a smile, "what is it, do you want me to tell you? Aren't you a little too old? "His brother chuckled.  
"Ricky of the Tuft," Ty repeated, nodding, "You were good at telling stories. Sometimes replacing the name with mine, I liked it. "  
"Don't do the sentimental, Ty" he tossed him in spite of the tired voice.  
"I'll take you something to drink, then straight to bed," he simply said.

Mike put one of the shopping bags on the ground and searched for the keys in his pocket. When he came in, Anders and Ty stared at him from the couch with a surprised expression. They were seated close to each others, in pajamas, watching television and with the legs on the coffee table. They had remained like this pretty much all day.  
"How did you get in?" Anders asked surprised, just moving off the blanket covering his legs.  
"I gave a copy to him" Ty replied promptly, anticipating his brother. Anders exaggerated an outrageous face while Mike unconcerned was beginning to arrange the grocety with the naturalness of a housewife, organizing the cupboard and the fridge with great efficiency.  
"I'm about to make some tea," he announced from the kitchen. Anders didn't know whether to show offended or scandalized. He was feeling so much better than the day before.  
"I don't have tea," he pointed out. Mike turned to him, they saw in the face for the first time after their discussion.  
"Now you have it," he said simply.  
When the bell rang, the kitchen counter was full of vegetables and a couple of pots appeared on the stove.  
Ty went to open and faced Axl, who was smiling with a pair of beer's boxes under his arm.  
"I didn't see anyone around, so I thought you were all here ..." he said as “hello”.  
Mike snorted amused from the kitchen, busy with a ladle found in a drawer. He wasn't a chef, he had never want to, but he had acquired some practice during the years.  
"What is today? A celebration which I didn't know about?" Asked Anders, following whith his gaze the younger brother lying on the free armchair, already holding the first can of beer. Axl shrugged.  
"Mike's bar is closed anyway," he said. Ty laughed, taking a beer. Anders pushed him trying to steal it from his hands.  
Mike watched them laughing, staring particularly at the blonde. He had observed him since he entered, noting his thin face and weakness, unmasked by the slower and more clumsy movements of the usual.  
"Beer, Anders? Really? " He asked, unable to hold back. The brother savored a long sip from the can before answering.  
"Liver and stomach are two different things," he said, winking at Axl. Mike sighed. However, I did drink only a few sips, more to make a scene than anything else.  
Ty started telling about progress with Dawn, he brought her a coffee the other morning to update her on Anders and she had offered him cookies to eat together. From the way he told them the story, it might seem that the girl offered him a trip together around the world. Mike had joined them, taking a can for himself. Axl spoke about a cute girl with whom he had come out, not Frigg obviously, and how she backed out in the middle. Anders teased both.  
Axl switched on the television and searched for the most stupid and loud movie he could find, something about an alien invasion. Mike put some plates on the cofflee table in front of the couch and gave each one a steaming bowl. Anders took his with circumcision. It was chicken soup, light, delicate and creamy.  
They watched the movie without being silent for just one second, firing ever more improbable bullshit. Axl laughed, opening one can after the other. Ty couldn't believe the plot's stupidity, he kept repeating it every 5 minutes. Anders asked unnecessarily to have some vodka and Mike provoked him with delightful comments about the choice of home decor.  
They had spent at least 15 years since the last time they had had a night like that at home, together.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mike remembered the old blue couch in the house where they grew up. When he returned from school or work he was always sure to find someone perched on it, reading or watching the small television. Anders and Ty jumped us up to break it in a couple of points. Axl had the strange passion to sit in the opposite direction, resting his legs on the backrest and holding his head dangling up.  
Sometimes Mike prepared Mac'n Cheese and let them eat on the couch in front of the TV. They were the favorite evenings of all, even because it meant that their father wasn't at home.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was almost six when Axl came into his brother's house whistling. He surpassed Mike who had opened the door and headed for the fridge to put the beers he just bought. They hadn't given any appointment but the boy knew he would find them all here. When he turned to the room he noticed something different than the night before. The television was on but kept at a very low volume, Ty sat on the couch, next to him Anders was lying on his side, wrapped in a blanket and his eyes closed.  
"Anders has a bit of fever," Mike told him. Axl didn't seem too concerned.  
"It's not so worrisome, though, no? It's just a bit of a fever, "he said, glancing from one brother to the other.  
"He's taking drugs that weaken him, Axl. He has to be careful about infections, "said Mike.  
"But the temperature is not very high, don't worry," Ty added from the couch, seeing the expression of the younger brother.  
"I can hear you," Anders murmured from his nest of pillows and blankets.  
It was a slow and weird evening.  
They chatted in a voice lower than usual, trying in turn to make jokes and put some giggle to lighten the tension. Anders occasionally took part of it, struggling to stay awake, but then exhaustion made him close his eyes again.  
Mike tried to make him take some hot broth, he obtened just to fight with him. Ty tried with sweeter methods but he only got a few spoonfuls.  
Axl stared at the television without really seeing it, a beer in his hand and the frustration of not knowing how to help wrap him up.  
At some point, Ty noticed Anders' breathing became more difficult, he looked at Mike, who put a hand on his forehead. Without saying anything he took the phone, disappearing into the bedroom.  
"If the fever rises more than that, we take him to the hospital," he said, when he returned to the room, "help me to bring him to bed," he added, looking at Ty.  
Axl followed them, watching them move the blankets to get underneath Anders' stiff and warm body.  
Ty lay down next to him, assuring Mike that he would wake him up in case of any change.  
Mike returned to the living room signing Axl to follow him and leave the btothers alone on their own.  
"Why don't you go home to sleep? It doesn't make sense for you to stay here, tou can save yourself from an uncomfortable night, "Mike told him, startin to clean the table full of cans and plates.  
"I want to stay," Axl said quickly. He saw him take some pillows and arrange them on the couch, fortunately rather comfortable and wide.

Ty opened his eyes and took a few seconds to connect. As soon as he realized where he was and what had awakened him, he felt the blood become ice.  
"Mike!" He shouted, before turning on the light, before even figuring out what was really going on, "Mike!"  
Anders panted and trembled, in a sweat bath. From his throat came a weird strange rantle.  
Mike went running on them, it took him a moment to decide.  
"Dress yourself," he said to Ty. He crouched down close to Anders and tried to shake him lightly.  
"Anders?" He called, "Anders, wake up. We have to go" he tried to shake him stronger and finally his brother opened his eyes. They were shiny and blurry.  
"Mmh?" He only said, a murmur almost not udible.  
"Let's go to the hospital," he said quickly as he hurried to sit him up urgently. Anders couldn't keep his eyes open and it was clear he hadn't idea where he was or what was happening. Mike snatched for him the first hoodie he could find.  
"Axl!" He shouted then without receive any answer "Ty, wake Axl up and tell him to run down and turn on the car"  
Mike took Anders in his arms and put him on his shoulders. It was heavy and boiling.  
"Mike?" Called a thin voice somewhere around his shoulder.  
"Yes," he said quickly, walking fast.  
"Mike, I didn't prepare the dinner. It was my turn, I think. I didn't prepare the dinner for the kids" he whispered in a distant voice, increasingly frightened and panting. Mike stopped for a moment, all his brother's weight on his shoulders.  
"That's okay, Anders. I can do it" he said.

The ER swallowed Anders in a few moments. Mike, Ty and Axl were left alone in the waiting room, with the same strange characters they had seen few weeks earlier.  
"I fell asleep," Ty repeated for the third time, sitting in front of the two. Mike snorted.  
"Stop it, Ty." He said.  
"No, Mike. I don't stop. We let him pretend to be fine when we knew he wasn't fine at all. We gave him space and you saw what happened. The other day when he called me he was sit on the floor and he couldn't move! "  
"He's an adult and he can take his responsibilities. We all were at his disposal... "  
"You know how he is," he said with a conclusive air, as if the statement unequivocally closed the discourse.  
"But yesterday he was fine," Axl's voice sounded young, hardened by the straining of the jaw. Mike looked at him impotent, looking for something to say, but his brother continued, "last night he was fine, we all were together and it was ... cool."  
Oh, Axl.  
Mike slipped an arm around his shoulders without saying anything, just holding his sadness.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When their father had gone, it was almost a relief.  
That ambiguous and dangerous father who made them like wild animals in continuous movement.  
Who had left to Mike the flavor of the worries.  
To Anders the cold shadow in his eyes.  
To Ty is nightmares.  
Nothing to Axl because he almost hadn't seen him.  
A will of sweat, lies and bruises.  
When their father had gone, it was almost a relief.  
When their mother left them, was a real betrayal.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first feeling was an ailment around his nose. He had something around his nostrils and he tried to take it off.  
"No, Anders, stop it" was Ty's voice, and that must have been his hand, cold. Anders tried to open his eyes, trying to focus despite the atrocious headache.  
"Ty?" He called.  
"I'm here. How do you feel? We're at the hospital. An infection on the lungs has splashed the fever on the stars. You're under antibiotics, "he said softly.  
He had headache, like a grip around the temples, but the contours of the gray hospital room were beginning to get more clear along with his brother's face.  
"I guess I can't go home," he squackwed. Ty smiled.  
"I'm afraid not. Mike and Axl have been here until recently, they will come back later. "  
"This is not necessary," he said immediately.  
"Anders," he warned, his voice sounding like a warning.  
"Seriously, that's not necessary" he repeated, trying to make his voice as firm as possible.  
"Anders, have some pity. You scared us, " he said slowly.  
His eyes were tired, his black hair on the white forehead, the blue eyes didn't look directly at his brother. He wanted to hold his hand. Anders watched him.  
"Did you feed my fishes?" Ty snorted, halfway between a sigh and a laugh.  
"I'll do it later," he said.

Mike looked at them from the window. Anders was pale and weak but the healing was taking effect. Ty was busy with the cord of an electric razor, trying to get it to the headboard but it was too short. Axl sat at the foot of the bed laughing at the operations, an open book on his legs.  
"Anders come in here or it will not works," Ty said.  
"Couldn't you do that before you got to the hospital?" Axl chuckled.  
"And you shouldn't, you know, shave you all up to make me feel your closeness?" Anders replied.  
"Don't even think about it," they both answered immediately, "are you ready?" Ty added, the machine ready for use. Anders had just started to lose his hair, just few locks. The doctor said he probably wouldn't have lost many but Anders had decided not to risk it and that a very short cut could be better than having holes on his head.  
“Ready," answered. Axl shook his eyes excitedly and didn't miss the opportunity to take a picture with the phone, Anders tried to kick him away from the bed. It took only a few minutes to finish everything.  
"You are ready to enlist," Axl said laughing, when Ty wiped the blond hair from his brother's neck.  
"But you weren't desperate for the study, little brother?" Anders asked, passing an hand over his shaved head, he didn't seem particularly troubled. Axl immediately bumped.  
"Economy. I don't understand anything at all. "Anders stared at him for a moment.  
"Let me see," he said.  
Mike kept looking at them. Ty was cleaning meticulously, he shaved his brother's head without bothering, doing a clean and efficient job. Anders was bent over the textbook Axl had slapped in front of him, gesturing to emphasize how stupid and useless that subject was for him.  
"They're just formulas, Axl,"Anders said as he scribbled something in a notebook. A long explanation followed, word after word Axl's face became ever more amazed. Even Ty curious, leaping for a look. Anders spoke with almost boring tone.  
Eventually Axl gave a long, surprised whistle, grasping the notebook with both hands.  
"You know," he said, looking at Anders seriously surprised "I think it's the first time you teach me something that doesn't strictly have to do with sex"  
"that's not true." They all turned to Mike, almost forgot about his presence, "he teached you how to bicycle in the park near home," he said.  
Anders opened his eyes, looking at his older brother. It was the best thing he'd ever heard from Mike about himself.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mike remembered very well Axl and Ty as children.  
What kind of kids they were. What they loved, their tantrums.  
He had so many anecdotes in mind, so many details.  
He remembered Axl's first day of school, he was running excited all the way, stumbling and muddling his apron. He missed two teeth and his smile was absolutely comical.  
He remembered Ty's first crush for a girl with long, black hair, writing letters to her, trying not to be seen by his brothers, hoping to have the courage to deliver them to her.

He wouldn't know what to say about Anders. He had been an independent and irreverent child, with a careful look on everything and dimples on his cheeks. When he wanted something he started to do anything to get it. When he told Mike he would go to college, he did not even know Anders had applied for the scholarship.

There were other images though. Other memories associated with Anders.  
Not games or school. But about gazes, things not said. Allegations. Guilt.  
Bruises to ignore.

And then the adolescence. Sex, alcohol and drugs. The anger of having to handle him in addition to all the rest.  
Unmanageable and angry. And Mike didn't have time, strength, desire, and the ability to respond to that anger. Not when there was anything else to look after. And he was young too.

When Anders went to college it was all painfully easier.

At 21 Mike had told him everything. He had only looked at him. Among all of them had been to accept with less difficulty the fact that they were divinities.  
And then he had seen him in that bed, with Val. Anders had looked at him and smiled.  
Mike no longer wanted to see him.

Yet, somewhere, there must be a happy memory about that kid with blond curls.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mike saw him wake up slowly. The fever had dropped but he was still weak and confused.  
"You have to keep it up," said Mike, stopping his hands on the nasogastric tube. Mike's hands were warm. Anders slowly opened his eyes. Mike saw him looking for his bottle of water on his bedside table so he took a glass and helped his brother drink, supporting his back.  
Anders did't look at him.  
"It's the middle of the night, getting back to sleep," he said slowly. He had sent Ty and Axl home to get a properly sleep.  
Anders was at the end of the second cycle of therapy, the next day they would know if they could proceed with the operation or if the tumor had extended.  
"You don't have to stay, you know," Anders murmured "none of you. You don't need to be here all the time "  
Mike didn't say anything. Anders had lost so much weight. He had never heard from him any serious complain, he hadn't expressed concern about his future, about the operation, his hair. He looked at him feeling the same pain as ever to take him to his bowels.  
Mike and Anders were able to pull off the worst of each other. And they seemed to be able to interact only through the clash.  
Mike stared at him so intensely to force his brother to look up at him.  
"Anders ..." he began, undecided whether to continue or not. That question had been tormenting him forever, in those days it had become impossible to repel it. "Do you have any good memories?" He asked softly, almost scared. Anders looked at him surprised. Mike took off, leaning against the window abruptly. So they could pretend he didn't ask for anything. He was surprised to receive an answer.  
"Of course I have it." His voice was serious and calm. Mike turned slowly, "Of course I have it, Mike. The summers in Norsewood, playing on the lawn around the lawn irrigation system. Wake up with Ty pressed against me with his pajamas with the boats. Axl awaits the tooth fairy excited for his first fallen tooth." He seemed uncertain whether to go on or not, but then added "Mom's cookies. And we both helped her knead. Me and you jumping on the bed with her. Her songs"  
Mike looked at him silently. He wanted to say something, maybe apologize or ask him if he was afraid or calm him down and tell him that he didn't have to worry about it, that he'd be okay, that he always got through it all. He didn't say anything.  
None of them spoke anymore.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Can't you admit you are scared?" Ty asked slowly. Anders turned to look at him.  
The sun was setting, he had long been looking out the window. The drip in his arm patted slightly as a continuous reminder. Ty had tears in his eyes, Anders was sorry. He smiled at him. Ty's lips trembled.  
The doctor had been directly and polite that morning. Anders nedeed the operation, as soon as possible. Other treatments would only weaken him, they had to open, hope that the tumor hadn't extended and removed everything. The operation was fixed the next morning.  
"Why can't you admit it?" He asked again. Anders didn't answer, he looked back out of the window. He felt the brother's icy finger take timidly his hand and he let him do it.  
"I'm afraid," Ty said very lowly.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes he asked him, pressed against him in his bed. With muffled and timid voice.  
"Anders aren't you never scared?" Anders never answered him for not neither confirm or deny.  
One day Mike decided that Anders had become too old to share the room with his brother. He moved him to the attic. He just wanted to help, giving him space, he wanted to protect Ty, wanted to move him away from Anders and his dangers. They had never forgiven him for that.  
Ty had continued to look for it, even when with the years became Anders himself to push him away. Sometimes those blue eyes, now adults, were still asking him the same thing. As he watched him sew a bottle or laugh at his last sex adventure.  
"Anders aren't you never scared?"  
Anders never responded.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn was wearing a pink dress, with puffy sleeves.  
He had brought flowers and Anders had teased her. She hadn't stirred and had updated him on customer complaints.  
"I told them you had to leave for health reasons," she said.  
"They will not believe you” Anders guessed. She laughed.  
"Not everyone," she confirmed.  
She was a strong and emotional girl. The florid face gave her an ancient look, accentuated by the porcelain skin and her clothes. She was the only person Anders let stay in his life outside of his family. The only woman who he didn't associate with sex.  
Dawn was ambitious and loyal, he loved Anders and his wrong way of showing her affection.  
"Dawn, I think Ty is still in the cafe if you want to say hello," he said casually. The girl looked at him with surprise.  
She spent more time than necessary looking for something inside his handbag, when she looked back at him, her smile was nervous and slightly embarrassed.  
“I'll see you tomorrow after the operation," she said, briefly caressing his arm with his clear hand.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anders had never trusted his father.  
But to her mother, he had believed her. He had heard her singing. He had dreamed of living only with her and his brothers.  
Sometimes he tried to run away from her hugs, then she ran after him laughing. She always nebbed him. She had amber skin and long, dark hair. Mike had taken her skin, Ty her hair. Anders resembled his father.  
When she left them, Ander saw his same black pain in Mike's eyes. He could no longer look at him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The doctor smiled at everybody friendly. If they were ready, they would have to take Anders in a few minutes to take him to the operating room. Mike had answered yes for everyone.  
The wait was overwhelming, almost to push them to prefer they take him away immediatly.  
Axl chuckled nervously, making some bad jokes on the fact of getting drunk together very soon.  
Ty didn't say anything. He tried to smile a couple of times with disturbing results.  
Anders seemed quieter, answered calmly to the anesthetist's questions, teased them over their long faces and reminded them to feed the fishes. Mike looked at him, noticing how the other seemed to avoid his gaze. Then they came for him.  
It was just a moment. An instant at the exact moment when the nurse began to push the stretcher out of the room, while Ty let out his hand. Just a flash of fear in the blue eyes. And at that moment they looked for him. Mike saw him and closed his eyes for a moment.  
He approached him slowly, stopping the nurse for her shoulder. He held out his hand, bending over him.  
"Don't worry, Anders. Everything will be fine, we'll see you here when you wake up. " He said slowly, near his ear, trying to warm his voice. Then he let him go.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The point was that the happy memories that only concerned them were also painful.  
The world before the birth of Ty and Axl had been more colorful. It was easier to pretend to have forgotten it.  
They were able to continue only with the affection for those brothers. Anders with Ty, Mikkel with Axl.  
Anders and Mike shared only the memory of what was lost.  
But the bond was still there, worn out and scuffed but not torn.  
Anders had no choice but to challenge him. Only Mike was still there. He was alone in that fight. And he had fought with him.  
Ty had saved his ability to give affection. Axl gave him a werid sense of fraternal proud.  
From Mike just needed to be accepted.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The feeling was that of the sea. To float on the surface of the water, as always he did when he was a child, and hearing the distant voice of his mother, calling him from the shore. Someone was calling him.  
Anders blinked a couple of times. Suddenly it was like being sucked on the shore, the sound came back strong, the body was very heavy.  
The first thing he saw was Ty's face.  
"Anders, can you hear me?" he asked. Anders tried to answer him but something gripped his throat from inside.  
"Wait. You can't talk yet, you're intubated. "That was Mike. Stand on the other side of the bed, looking at him.  
"The operation went well. The operation went well, " said Ty, overtaking the slow beep of the machinery around him. Anders saw Axl approaching at the foot of the bed with an anxious smile.  
Mike saw him move restlessly and stopped him fast, stopping him with his arms.  
"Wait, Anders. Ty, take something to write on so he can communicate, " he ordered. Ty leaned over his brother helping him grab a marker and placing his hand on a block-note. It took a lot of effort and patience before it could have a legible result. It was just one word.  
Ty chuckled, a chuckled laugh that looked like a sob.  
"He wrote 'Vodka'," he told them, shaking his head.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mike passed an other beer to Axl, already abundantly drunk.  
It was one of those rare evenings where the bar was given the grace of having some customers.  
Anders had an arm around the hip of a beautiful blond woman with an unlikely cyclamen lipstick and a beautiful laugh. He offered her a cocktail looking at her with his blue eyes, amused and excited.  
The operation was long and not free of complications, but it went well. The tumor had been removed along with a good half of his stomach. Nobody had expected a big change in Anders.  
He had dovren everyone crazy all over during his convalescence, and when he was dismissed he had disappeared for a whole week, from which he had returned tanned and with several love bites on his neck.  
They were pretty sure their brother was still following the medical treatment but nobody ever asked him anything. Mike was certain he hadn't yet touched alcohol.  
The relief to the end of that story had been so strong that it was almost painful. And it had been there, suspended along with the other millions of things he didn't tell each other. Like another of their memories.  
Mike and Anders looked at each other from the opposite sides of the pub. Axl laughed with Zeb and Olaf. Ty entered in that moment with his usual gentle air.  
And like any of their memories, it had a sweet and bitter flavor.

**Author's Note:**

> Hola ^^ Thanks for reading.  
> I'm sorry for my english, it isn't obviously my language and I'm sadly aware about all the mistakes you found in my work.  
> I also know the story isn't exactly realistic but this wasn't the point for me.  
> I hope you enjoyed it anyway, thanks!


End file.
